


How Much to Give and How Much to Take

by acquitarte



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Don’t copy to another site, First Night, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Post-Kings Rising, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 10:45:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19375135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acquitarte/pseuds/acquitarte
Summary: “I may not have ever been a slave,” he said against the skin of Laurent’s cheek, “but that does not mean that you do not still deserve your First Night.” He felt the breath catch in Laurent’s chest as he spoke, felt himself smile at the response.Or: Laurent is finally crowned King of Vere, Damen and Laurent get married, and they finally get some goddamn happiness





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from I Found by Amber Run

It was closer to dawn than dusk when Damen arrived in Arles. His command - no, request, he had to formal command here, yet - that no announcement of his arrival be made was met with objections from the multiple guards and servants he encountered. No, he would not need an escort to the Crown Prince’s chambers. No, he would not like for him to be bothered. Yes, he would take care of informing the Crown Prince of his arrival himself. 

And then, at last, he was alone. He should bathe first, he knew, but Damen was so tired and Laurent was asleep on the other side of the door. In the morning then, he told himself. Opening the door with one hand, he unpinned his chiton with the other, letting it fall to the floor as he crossed the moonlit room. He knew the arrangement of these chambers as well as his own in Ios. 

Damen paused to remove his sandals, but found himself entranced by the steady rise and fall of Laurent’s breath. He hadn’t roused at Damen’s entrance, but he would certainly wake when Damen got into bed. There could be no harm in allowing him to sleep for a moment longer; if it constituted indulging himself, he was ok with it. What good was being king otherwise?

Laurent turned in his sleep. Whether the sound of Damen’s undressing had woken him or something else, he couldn’t say - the end result of Laurent blinking sleepily at him, his smile upon realizing Damen had arrived, happened either way.

“Something you wanted, Exalted?” Laurent asked, tone surprisingly light for having just woken up. 

The spell that held Damen there broke, and he climbed into the bed, meeting Laurent in the middle. “Mm,” he agreed as he caught Laurent’s mouth with his own. The weeks between Laurent’s departure from Ios and his own arrival in Vere had stretched too long. They both knew it was necessary. While Laurent would have preferred to remain in Ios until his own birthday and coronation, there was too much to be done. To say that Damen had missed him would be an absurd understatement. “Nothing else that cannot wait until morning, though,” he finally said. 

That did not stop him from mouthing down the side of Laurent’s throat, across one sharp collarbone as he pushed Laurent’s nightshirt out of his way. “Are you sure about that?” Laurent asked, clearly trying for mocking but landing somewhere closer to aroused. Damen knew Laurent could feel him where they lay pressed together, knew Laurent would know even if he couldn’t. Knew that rolling his hips against Laurent’s was directly counterintuitive to either of them sleeping, but did it anyways. 

“Mmhmm.” He trailed openmouthed kisses across Laurent’s other collarbone, then up the side of his neck until he reached his jaw. 

“Damianos,” Laurent gasped. 

Damen kissed the sound from his mouth before letting his forehead fall to rest against Laurent’s. “I really am tired.” As if to illustrate his point, the latter half of his statement came out as a yawn. 

Laurent yawned in response before pressing another quick kiss to his lips. “You’re early.”

“I saw no benefit to spending another night on the ship. Sailing from Ios to Vere has lost its novelty for some reason.” He pressed another kiss to the underside of Laurent’s jaw, as much to breathe in the scent of him as to lessen the sudden intensity of his words.

With an exhaled sigh, Laurent ran his fingers lightly over Damen’s back. Damen doubted the gesture was thoughtless, though he didn’t know if it was simply to touch or if Laurent was forcing himself to recall their early days in Arles. 

“Stop,” he growled against the skin of Laurent’s throat. His fingers froze, but Laurent didn’t pull away. Damen propped himself up further on his elbows so he could look at Laurent. “There is no good in you agonizing over this now. It is done.”

“Damen,” Laurent began to argue.

“No,” he replied, pressing his thumb gently against Laurent’s lips to quiet him. Laurent frowned, but nodded, so Damen moved his hand to cup Laurent’s jaw instead. “I missed you.”

Laurent turned his head to kiss Damen’s palm, a gesture so unexpectedly soft that Damen ached with it. Damen rolled onto his back, pulling Laurent with him and tangling them both in the blankets. He wrapped his arms around Laurent’s back, impossibly glad to have him so close again. He fell asleep like that, with Laurent’s head pillowed on his chest. 

They both moved in the night, though when Damen finally woke up he still had one arm wrapped around Laurent. He pressed his nose against Laurent’s hair, content to lay there for as long as possible. Laurent made a noise in his sleep and turned onto his back without waking. Sleep had done nothing for Damen’s aching arousal, but he knew better than to wake Laurent in such a fashion. He let his hand wander to the soft skin of Laurent’s thigh, his fingers tracing invisible patterns, and pressed a soft kiss to his temple.

He didn’t want to wake Laurent - not really. He had an impossibly long day ahead, and many long days of travel after that. They both should enjoy sleeping in a bed while they were able. 

“There are other things best enjoyed in a bed,” Laurent replied quietly, and Damen realized he’d voiced his thought aloud. 

“Is that permission to continue, then?” His fingers trailed higher as he spoke, teasing at the edge of Laurent’s nightshirt. 

Laurent tilted his chin toward Damen and Damen met him halfway. The kiss rapidly went from sleepy to teasing to hot as Laurent woke fully. Laurent pulled at his hip, so he shifted, planting one knee between Laurent’s legs and his hand by Laurent’s head, careful not to pull his hair. He’d allowed it to grow even longer since they’d parted. 

Twisting slightly, Laurent grabbed for something on the bedside table. He placed the small vial next to Damen’s fingers without a word. Instead, he threaded his fingers in Damen’s hair and kissed him hungrily. 

Damen didn’t have to look to know what was in the vial, but he would have been lying if he’d said the realization didn’t send a jolt down his spine. Laurent’s soft whine when he broke off the kiss nearly undid him, enough that he had to pause for a moment to breathe, fingers squeezing tightly at the base of his shaft. 

When he was able to formulate coherent thoughts once more, he began to kiss his way down Laurent’s chest through the thin fabric of his nightshirt. He felt Laurent tense beneath him, then consciously force himself to relax. 

“Can I?” he asked from just above Laurent’s navel. 

Laurent nodded once, stiffly. He knew how Laurent warred with his own walls, knew that questioning his response would only make matters worse, so he only slowed instead of stopping. By the time he reached the hem of Laurent’s nightshirt, Laurent was straining with want. Damen smiled against the creamy skin of his thigh before he pushed Laurent’s nightshirt out of the way. 

The noise Laurent made when he licked a stripe from base to tip paled in comparison to his ragged moan when Damen swallowed him down. Still, he kept his pace glacial, head tilted so he could watch the movement of Laurent’s chest and the flush that spread across his cheekbones. Without pulling off, Damen managed to get the stopper out of the vial and spilled a portion of its contents onto his fingers. 

He didn’t miss the hitch in Laurent’s breathing or the tension in his thighs as his fingers found their destination. His touch was featherlight, just barely ghosting over the tight ring of muscle as he gave Laurent time to adjust - physically and mentally - to his presence. Only when Laurent exhaled a sigh, hips moving to press against his fingertips, did he begin the process of working one finger in. Damen pulled back to kiss the tip of Laurent’s cock as he did, leaving the decision of which direction to move to Laurent. 

“Damen,” Laurent protested at the loss of contact. 

“Yes, Your Majesty?” he replied, still so close that his lips brushed Laurent’s shaft as he spoke. He saved Laurent from having to word an answer by swallowing him down again and inserting another finger. 

The wrecked moan it earned him went straight to his groin, and he rolled his hips against the mattress. Somehow Laurent had known exactly which of his multitude of personal barriers to lower first; which one would most quickly undo Damen’s own self control. And he was truly grateful for the feedback, for the confirmation that Laurent was enjoying himself. He pulled back with both fingers and mouth at once before settling into a rhythm. 

When Laurent began to tense around him again, Damen paused to ask “How do you want it?”

Laurent tugged at his hair by way of response and Damen allowed himself to be led, kissing his way into Laurent’s mouth greedily. His hips moved of their own accord, rubbing between Laurent’s oil-slicked cheeks. Damen almost thought they would come like that, rutting against each other and gasping into each other’s mouths, but Laurent surprised him by reaching down to help guide him in. Damen groaned into Laurent’s shoulder at the feeling of it. He was already close, and it was always so much better than he remembered. 

He had to fight, then, to not chase his own end. He slid one hand under Laurent’s nightshirt to wrap around his hip, the other wound in Laurent’s hair as he kissed him. Laurent’s heels hooked behind his thighs, pulling him deeper. Damen panted helplessly against his neck, his pulse thundering and his orgasm so close he could taste it. 

“Damen,” Laurent managed before he tightened around him, coming hotly against Damen’s chest.

His control broke then, and he thrust into Laurent once, twice, a third time before his own climax crashed over him like a wave. Laurent’s fingers loosened in his hair, rubbing gently against his scalp and soothing his electric nerves. Damen kissed his shoulder, his jaw, his mouth. 

“Happy birthday,” he said against Laurent’s lips. Laurent smiled at him, beautiful and impossibly fond. 

“Welcome home,” Laurent replied.


	2. Chapter 2

As with all things in Vere, Laurent’s coronation seemed needlessly long and complicated, but Damen forced himself to pay attention to all of it. It mattered to Laurent - and to him, though he thought it all could’ve been shortened significantly. Laurent was laced up in Veretian finery all violet and gold, as was tradition. Damen was grateful that his attire was at least less flashy, if no less finely made. He was dressed in stifling laces as well; the crowded throne room was too hot for so much clothing. 

He found himself holding his breath as the crown was placed on Laurent’s head; he was only able to exhale when Laurent stood, turned to face the crowd, breathtakingly beautiful and every inch a king. As the neighboring king, Damen had first rights in congratulating him, followed by the others. Laurent’s smile when Damen reached him was impossibly bright, unbelievably honest. Damen wanted to kiss him then and there, on the dais in front of everyone. Soon, he reminded himself. 

The rest of the festivities seemed to drag and fly by all at once. There were too many introductions; some of them he’d met already, though never formally as King of Akielos. Unlike his last encounters with Veretian festivities, the entertainment was fairly tame and tasteful. Damen couldn’t help but wonder how the change was received by the courtiers and whether they recognized it as what it was - a demonstration of how much they both expected to change things with their new reign. 

By the time they made it to bed that night, they were both exhausted. Damen’s long night had caught up to him by mid-afternoon and he was grateful for the quiet. That did not stop him from crowding Laurent against the door and kissing him until they were both breathless, but they did little beyond that. He helped Laurent out of his decorative trappings and allowed Laurent to return the gesture, awed by the tenderness and intimacy of it. 

Damen laughed without meaning to as Laurent ran his fingers over the gold cuff at his wrist. 

“What?” Laurent asked, his tone guarded, suddenly self conscious. 

Damen grabbed his hand, pulled him close. “I’m going to marry you,” he whispered against the shell of Laurent’s ear. Laurent shivered, either at the touch or the words, and tucked himself against Damen’s chest. 

“If I don’t decide to kill you after all on the trip to Delfeur,” Laurent replied dryly. 

He huffed a laugh against Laurent’s hair before kissing the top of his head. Damen slept better that night than he had in weeks. 

The next morning came too bright and too early, but there were only so many times Damen could yell for the servants to go away before he had to face the reality that they needed to move. At the very least, the weather looked promising and they were not setting off to face death this time. Without the feeling of impending doom hanging over them, the ride to Delfeur was actually quite beautiful. Everything was lush and green around them, and their party was in high spirits. 

Nearly identical to their first journey across Vere, they spent many late nights discussing the logistics of their campaign; this time it was for the purpose of merging kingdoms, rather than averting their destruction. It was hard to accomplish much of real importance while on the road, but it was helpful to have time away from the day to day demands of court to plan. And beside that, Damen still relished the opportunity to watch Laurent like this, fiercely intelligent and so desperately motivated to do right by his people. 

This time, he did not have to worry about the violent backlash if he was too forward, so he was. He took every opportunity to praise Laurent’s thought-out plans, to compliment his insight, but also to touch him. Not in any sexual manner, but rather to help him work out the knot that reappeared each day behind his shoulder blade, to reach over and brush his hair back from his face as they pored over laws and trade agreements and letters from nobles of both countries.

On some nights, they would have Laurent’s new council join them, though Damen found himself more reserved with his affections on those occasions. After, he always ended up invading Laurent’s space, or Laurent his, chasing the relief the other had to offer. 

Laurent still was not always easy to get along with; he still had many of his sharp edges, but Damen had better learned to navigate them. Knew that much of the time, it was not directed at him. By and large, he kept his own temper under control, and when they both got away from themselves, one or the other would take their leave of the tent until the dust had settled. The benefit of having familiar faces around, for Jord and many of the others had become part of the Kingsguard after Laurent’s coronation, was that they were also familiar with Damen and Laurent as people, and that they therefore knew how best to handle their moods. 

They arrived in Delpha late one afternoon. Damen and Laurent had, once again, been placed in adjacent chambers - Damen in the King’s suite and Laurent in the Queen’s - rather than one room. Apparently everyone had decided it was easiest to politely ignore that they were both kings in their own right and had spent multiple nights sleeping in the same place. He tried to sleep in his own bed. He really did. But if he got up and knocked on Laurent’s door, well, who was really to stop him?

“Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?” Laurent asked, tone cool but an unmistakable tilt to the corners of his mouth. 

“Good thing I don’t have a bride,” Damen replied as he stepped inside. He thought he heard one of the guards laugh as the door shut behind them. 

“We have another long day tomorrow,” Laurent warned against his mouth. 

“You keep saying that,” Damen replied before kissing him. He leaned down slightly to catch the backs of Laurent’s thighs, and Laurent allowed himself to be carried to the bed. Damen took him apart slowly, impossibly gently, hoping Laurent would understand everything he meant but did not say. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he said after. 

“Is this how it feels to be you?” Laurent asked, lazily sprawled, eyes half shut. “How are you thinking right now?”

Damen laughed and kissed him before rolling over. Laurent wasn’t wrong; they had a lifetime ahead of them. 

The servants arrived to collect them impossibly early the next morning, and they were separated then. Damen allowed himself to be trimmed and groomed, bathed and oiled. The chiton they wrapped him in was impossibly soft and trimmed in gold, as was the violently crimson cape they pinned to his shoulders. His sandals, too, were gold, the ensemble completed by the crown of golden laurels that was placed atop his curls. He didn’t need a mirror to know how he looked; it was elegant in its simplicity. 

Damen was escorted to the gardens where the guests awaited them by his own Akielon guards. Ordinarily, the privilege of performing the ceremony would have fallen to him, yet as the wedding was his own he’d passed the honor to a begrudging Nikandros since the Kyros had last been his. 

He stopped just to one side of the crowd; Nikandros waited at the center, but Laurent had not yet appeared at the far side of the gathering. Damen’s pulse thundered in his ears, the feeling strangely similar to the one he got before a fight. He just felt so alive, but none of the sick horror that normally waited behind the feeling. Instead, there was something that felt like longing. 

And then there was Laurent, standing across the distance. He felt his blue gaze before he noticed his appearance, but once he did, nothing could have kept him in place. Fortunately, Nikandros stopped his progress, a careful flick of his fingers against Damen’s chest, as Laurent closed the other half of the space. 

Damen was overcome by it. He’d anticipated seeing Laurent in more Veretian clothing - it was what had been mentioned on the few occasions they’d discussed it. “I defer to your judgment,” was all Damen had contributed to the conversation, and he did. He knew Laurent would do what was going to best promote unity between their peoples. 

He had never thought to expect this. Laurent was always beautiful, but like this - half of his hair pulled back in a delicate braid, the separation of pale skin and white fabric only demarcated by more gold trim, intricately detailed Veretian crown somehow not at all at odds with his attire. Like this, standing at arms length, just on the opposite side of his childhood best friend, about to marry Damianos, King of Akielos. Like this, he was otherworldly, ethereal; he was marble perfection. 

Damen knew that they all said the necessary words, and then some. Knew that Laurent said things that he felt in the depths of his soul, and that he did too. But what he remembered was the image of Laurent in front of him, perfect in every way, blue eyes never leaving his until the moment it was done and Damen was kissing him like he held all of the air in the world in his lungs. 

It was a blur, after that. There was eating and drinking and singing and dancing - so much life. Everything smelled of flowers and sunlight. And Laurent was his. He thought his smile might be permanently carved into his face, wondered if he would ever not be lightheaded with the realization. 

And then Laurent whispered “Take me to bed,” in his ear and he was helpless to do anything but that. The party would continue without them, he knew. It was expected. Probably some of the guests were surprised they’d stayed so long, but he was king, afterall. They both were. They had obligations. 

He watched the sway of Laurent’s chiton as he trailed him through the hallways, drunk more on the feeling than alcohol. He wasn’t sure if he’d even finished his original glass of wine, everything had moved so quickly. The guards posted at his - their door were discreet enough to avoid exchanging knowing glances in their presence, though a voice at the back of Damen’s mind wondered at their private conversations after having spent so much time among them. 

He expected it when Laurent crossed the room, poured himself a glass of water and watched Damen as he slowly drank it. Knew that Laurent expected it as he eventually followed, crowded in close. Kissed him once. Then again, lingering. 

“I may not have ever been a slave,” he said against the skin of Laurent’s cheek, “but that does not mean that you do not still deserve your First Night.” He felt the breath catch in Laurent’s chest as he spoke, felt himself smile at the response. 

“Are you sure?” Laurent asked, quiet but even. 

Damen wrapped his hands around Laurent’s hips, pulled their bodies flush. “You tell me,” he replied, rubbing against Laurent ever so slightly, “Do I seem sure?”

Laurent’s next exhale was less even, but he wrapped his arms around Damen’s neck, took a step forward, guiding him toward the bed. Damen was more than willing to follow. Was burning up with it. Met each one of Laurent’s hungry kisses with his own. He felt the backs of his knees hit the bed. Laurent had the pins at his shoulders undone and allowed his clothing to drop before he gave Damen a shove. Damen allowed himself to go down, mouth suddenly gone dry as Laurent dropped carefully to kneel between his legs. Laurent placed a kiss on the inside of one knee, then the other, his fingers working at the straps of Damen’s sandals on their own. 

When he was fully undressed, Laurent stood again and nodded for Damen to get comfortable on the bed. Damen half crawled backwards, not wanting to take his eyes off of Laurent. He looked away, focused on removing the pin that held his own chiton up before unbuckling his own sandals and stepping out of all of it. 

Damen realized he’d been holding his breath again and exhaled sharply as Laurent straddled his lap. And then they were kissing again, close and hot and so good. Damen’s skin buzzed at the contact, the skittering drag of Laurent against him. 

“How do you want me?” his voice rough against the muscular plane of Laurent’s chest. He pressed a kiss just over the thud of Laurent’s heart, felt its beat against his lips. 

Laurent twined their fingers together with one hand, the other he ran through Damen’s hair, allowing it to tangle in the curls. Damen looked up to meet his eyes, allowing his lips to drag across Laurent’s skin as he did. His pupils were only barely ringed in blue, wide enough to contain oceans. 

“Every way you’ll have me,” he eventually replied. Damen smiled and surged up to kiss him, lips and teeth meeting with the insatiable force of mutual wanting. 

When they finally broke apart, Damen grabbed the vial of oil that sat beside the bed, pressing it into Laurent’s elegant fingers. He wrapped an arm around Laurent’s waist, supporting the weight of them both as he shifted to give Laurent a better angle without requiring him to move just yet. 

Understanding his adjustment, Laurent coated his fingers and reached behind him. Damen exhaled sharply at the first touch, hesitant and frustratingly light. He knew why, of course. He knew they couldn’t rush this, didn’t want to. But his blood sang for more. Instead, he settled for mouthing at the pulse point at the base of Laurent’s neck, chasing the sound it got him. 

Like with all things, Laurent was a quick study, and impossibly good at getting under Damen’s skin. He wasn’t going to beg for it, he decided as he said “Laurent, please,” in Veretian and actively ignored how destroyed he sounded. 

And then it was another impossibly long, slow push, this time as much for Laurent’s sake as his own. His hair tickled where it brushed against Damen’s chest, but he hardly noticed it through how full he felt, his brain yelling for more and there and. He let out a wrecked, high sound as Laurent bottomed out, eyes screwed shut over him. 

Damen wrapped his arms around Laurent, pulled him to his chest, and for a while they stayed like that, just breathing. But soon, they both grew restless, hungry for more, and when Laurent started to shift experimentally against him, Damen let him up. He leaned down to kiss Damen’s knee again before moving again. 

Eyes on Damen’s face, he changed the angle of his hips, then pushed Damen’s legs up gently to adjust further. When he thrust forward again, Damen’s vision went white around the edges. He knew he had to have made a noise, judging from the pleased smile that crossed Laurent’s face. 

From there, Laurent was merciless. He settled into a rhythm that was just the right side of speed and force that it built an agonizing bubble of need at the base of Damen’s spine. Just a little bit more, a little bit harder, faster, and Damen would be right there, but Laurent drew it out, kept him right on the edge until he was desperate for it. 

“Laurent,” he moaned and his husband, the terrible bastard, smiled at him. He hooked one of Damen’s knees over his elbow, planting his other hand against the mattress, before pushing forward. 

Damen might have died, then. He felt every nerve in his body fire, impossibly, felt Laurent come inside of him, couldn’t tell where his orgasm ended and Laurent’s began. His skin was electric with it, sparks that echoed across Laurent’s back when he collapsed against Damen with a cry. 

In what was becoming a refreshing new normal, Laurent did not move to put distance between them. Instead, he let Damen wrap his arms around him, rested his head against the broad expanse of Damen’s chest. Eventually, he did pull out, out of necessity more than anything, and then he did get up in search of a rag to clean them up. 

Damen knew to expect the private display of tenderness that Laurent showed, after, but it still hit him harder than he ever anticipated. That someone who had only known violence could be so impossibly gentle tore through him each time he experienced it. Only once he’d determined that Damen was taken care of and acceptable to his standards did Laurent settle back down on the bed. 

He allowed himself to be pulled close once more, only making a show of tolerating it before he gave in and half-draped himself over Damen. Laurent absently traced the line of one scar, then the other. “We did it, Damianos” he said eventually. 

A grin split Damen’s face. “We did it.” Damen kissed him again. They did not sleep that night.


End file.
